Coming Home
by saifai
Summary: The dance between Spike and Xander finally comes to its inevitable romantic conclusion.


Author: Saifai

Author: Saifai  
Summary: The dance between Spike and Xander finally comes to its inevitable romantic conclusion.  
Pairing: Xander/Spike. Mentions Buffy/S and Dru/S  
Spoilers: Buffy through season 7 (and the first two episodes of comic season 8, and Angel through season 5.  
Notes: Originally wrote for the 2007 Spander Christmas Cracker at Excessant under the title "Home For Christmas". This story concentrates more on the journey Spike takes. The little quotes in italics between each section are lyrics from a song called "The Black Veil" by Behind Crimson Eyes. Also included are references to the actual The Black Veil (google those three words to see what I mean), and quotes by Friedrich Nietzshe. All thanks goes in equal parts to my muse, who took the idea and ran away with it cackling in glee, and to Lazuli who gave me the chance to put it into words.

**xsxsxsxsxsxsxsxsxsxs**

Coat in hand, Spike took one last look around his apartment before he left. He was tired of fighting. After these long years with no rewards save for abuse, this time he was doing something for himself. If he timed it right, he would be there by Christmas. With a nod to himself, he swirled his leather coat about his shoulders. He picked up his bag and walked out the door. He was going home.

_i'm growing stronger from this thirst_

He almost couldn't remember how it all began. His havens were gone, and his Elders all but lost to him. He'd been saving himself for so long. He almost couldn't remember his purpose any longer. So many lines had been crossed all in the name of love. He had become the man of knowledge - for he loved his enemies and hated his friends.

_behind these eyes; crimson thoughts_

In the beginning, he gave her everything. She was his life. He lived only for her. He would give her anything, or pay any price, if she but asked it of him. All he ever wanted in return was her love. But that never happened. He walked out of her life never to look back. He would be his own man. After all, no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.

_you won't survive it through the night_

At some point he must have lost his sanity, because he repeated the cycle again with another woman. Another woman lost in a world of her own making. She was blind to all around her save for her own thoughts. It was _her_ calling. The power was only _hers_. _She_ had lost people she loved. _She_ was the one to carry the burden of living to fight another day. _She_ sacrificed herself to keep others safe. It was only ever about her. None of the rest of us existed. In her eyes, we were a burden.

It was Nietzsche who once said that, "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster." We couldn't trust her with our lives anymore. It was _we_ who felt only pity for her.

He sought comfort with the only other one to truly _see_. Neither one of us put much thought into it other than to escape. None of the others knew, and we didn't want them to know. It was a solace only for _us_. We both jealously guarded that sanctuary.

_drive a stake through my chest and watch as i fade_

Even before the fall of Sunnydale, Buffy left a piece of herself behind. She became the ghost in the machine. She was nothing if not working, but then she'd always been like that. Everyone knew she was trying to atone for some invisible sins. After she learned of the source of her powers, she became another Angel fighting to win her own Shanshu. She had to know it would never happen. But then perhaps it was only we select few who knew the key to happiness was to choose to be just that: happy.

_she walks away from me_

If only she knew. He wasn't entirely sure who did know, as a matter of fact, that the Captain of her current operations kept up with the Fang Gang. It was a legacy left to the boy by his late ex-girlfriend. In an odd twist of fate, it was him who ended up dealing with the correspondence. He was the only one with the time to spare, no thanks to the miserable bastard himself. He couldn't even explain now why he took the task upon himself, but in the end he came to enjoy his chats with Xander. 

_as night falls it comes with one desire_

It wasn't until after Wesley was gone that things changed. He felt cheated to have been forced to go through another war. He clung to that small part of his past and couldn't bring himself to let go. However short a time in his long, and miserable, life he spent there… _he_ left his mark. Even had he wanted to, he couldn't rid himself of it. With everything falling part around him again, he reached out for his solace – his Xander.

_it cries to me; like fire in your eyes, and burns for you_

Things were decidedly different this time. Back in Sunnydale, it was a convenience borne of desperation. Xander didn't hate him exactly, not when they needed all the resources they could get. No help offered was refused. He was an ally, if only just barely tolerated. Xander had been the only one left of the group to even notice him, or bother to mind his upkeep. Towards the end though, they were more than allies. They were… shield mates. He didn't fool himself to think it was anything more, but he could at least call him his friend.

_i grasp it with both hands; i am so helpless to the call_

Xander was there to answer his call, there when he needed him like always. Given the events leading up to it, the boy hadn't been at all surprised. He was welcomed with strong arms when he stole the jet for short visits. We spent precious few nights in each other's warm embrace before life caught up to us once again. He lost contact with him shortly before the final battles.

_i cannot bathe in your light; i cannot stay for you_

Once again, he was alone. He had nothing left, but kept up that ever going march towards some unseen goal. The rest were lost to him, either by death or by choice. He understood Lorne like never before. He made his way across the states, then across the ocean. He homed in on Xander like a bloody pigeon. It was all he had left, all he _cared_ to have left.

_tonight i will feast on your flesh_

After endless days of travel, he was finally here. He came in silent as a thief. He dropped his bag in the entryway. Presents went under the tree, trinkets and sweets went in the stocking. His coat was left on the couch. His clothes were shed throughout the hallway and bedroom. He slid under the covers with Xander and took him into his arms. He kissed him lightly on the ear and whispered, "Merry Christmas, luv."

He was finally home.


End file.
